


Consider the Stars

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Romance, Second War with Voldemort, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2004-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:36:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5943931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus and Sirius try to deal with life before things fall apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Consider the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

He had arrived, as so many things tended to do, with silence in the rain, under cover of darkness. Raw paws, in a last ditch effort, scratched at the door, and mere moments later the pale, familiar face of his dearest friend was near his own, and his gaunt doggy frame nearly dragged itself over the threshold and in to the dry warmth of the cottage.

The journey was a haze in his exhausted mind, and Remus knelt beside him in the hall and then he was speaking to him, that low, soft voice trickled across his ears and he struggled to focus on it, to understand.

"Do you think you can transform, Sirius?" Oh, that voice was so... "Sirius? Can you hear me?" Oh, right. Sirius was him, and usually it is polite to respond when one is being addressed.

He was weary but he tried, tried for Remus, and soon he lay sprawled across the rug. "Yeah..." his voice was small and raw, and Remus laid a hand in his hair.

"It's all right. Here," he motioned for Sirius to move slightly, and helped him to rise. "Come sit by the fire, and I'll bring you something to eat."

Sheer power of will forced him to follow, but a strong, bony hand latched on to Remus's robes. "Wait," he croaked. Something in his eyes had stopped Remus's objection.

The news which he'd brought had been appropriate to the weather. They stood in the doorway between kitchen and hallway and Sirius told Remus the grisly tale. Once Sirius had imparted the information, he slumped against Remus. His immediate duty fulfilled, the exhaustion, which was so evident in his features and the way he carried himself, finally overwhelmed him.

Those weeks had been difficult.

They'd waited for most of them, and that had nearly driven Sirius mad. They'd pored over books in hopes of finding something useful. Remus fought to keep Sirius from retreating to his own thoughts, because often when he did his blue eyes deadened and his jaw would clench. He'd shattered a fair few teacups with his grip. Indeed, the worst thing about waiting was the inactivity, and it was so hard to keep Sirius sane, but he had to do it.

Only six days in to their stint of idleness they'd had a blazing row. Remus couldn't recall what had triggered it, but the heart to heart that had resulted made the air around them much less charged with bitterness. They'd said some cruel things to each other, but they were things that needed to be said, mainly so that they knew they didn't really mean them. Sirius had thrown things and Remus had fought to control himself, but in the end they were yelling at the tops of their lungs and Remus marveled that they had not cursed or hit each other.

Sirius had yelled something at him, and Remus heard himself shout, "Nice of you to get yourself thrown in Azkaban and leave me to- " and he'd frozen as the words spilled from his lips. No matter how much he'd been through then, he could never blame it on Sirius, and he'd never wanted to say such things to him, ever. "I... I didn't mean that-"

""But you didn't do anything? Did you? Did you??" Then his voice went deathly quiet, and his face went very pale. "Of course you didn't. It's my fault that they're dead. MINE."

They stared at each other for a moment, both shocked at what they'd said to each other, neither daring to blink. Sirius's hands were shaking visibly.

"I... I can't..." Sirius sank to his knees, his long-fingered hands moving to cover his face. Remus was by his side in an instant. He was hesitant to touch him, for fear that he would break. That's how it had been, like walking on eggshells, for six days. They'd never anticipated it coming to this, so long ago, when they'd been so close it hurt to be apart.

Sirius's voice was barely a whisper when he spoke again. "I can't believe you've gotten over us, you're so calm..." Remus's jaw dropped and his hands reached for Sirius. He'd never heard his voice that way; he wanted to gather the shards of it in his hands before they splintered any further. And so desperately he needed to repair it, to piece the shards together again, but in his heart he knew he couldn't. Things were never that easy. "I'm not," he said, his voice quivering in his throat. "I never was... I never will be," he said. He hadn't wanted to bring this up, because he'd tried so hard to suppress the feelings he had for Sirius. He couldn't bring himself to tell Sirius he still loved him, when it seemed he was so close to cracking, it would have been too much of a burden. But now that Sirius had breached the subject, he realized that it was something he needed to say. "I... never wanted to get over you, so I didn't."

The look in Sirius's eyes was raw and incredulous. "What... did you say?" His breathing quickened. "Do you mean to tell me that... there's still hope?"

Remus nodded slowly and gathered Sirius in to his arms. "Oh, thank god, I love you so much Remus," Sirius breathed.

"I love you too, Sirius."

"I'm sorry, so sorry," he began, and Remus quieted him.

"I forgive you."

"What... how can you possibly-"

"Shh. I forgive you."

Sirius had collapsed against him then, and though Remus knew they had a lot to work through, he was giddy with relief. There was hope.

+++++

Pliant lips feathered across his own in a touch not entirely derived from lust. Their noses brushed lightly across each other and Sirius tucked his face in to Remus's, as close as was comfortably possible, then bent his neck slightly and found the lips once more. It was so warm with his hands tucked close, one buried in the hair at the nape of his neck and the other splayed possessively across his back. He sucked lightly on the lips, and slicked them once with his tongue, and then hands tightened against him, and now their bodies touched flush, and it wasn't enough. He wondered vaguely if it would ever be enough. Sirius remembered those London nights, long ago, before they were so violently riven. Lying wrapped around him, every muscle of his body moving to tenderly cradle the other man, feeling the languid strokes of his hand on bare, perfect flesh. The images crept indistinctly in and out of his consciousness, dreamlike in essence yet his body managed to recall. He wanted that again, desperately.

Those lips were far from urgent, gently parting beneath his own, and then Remus's tongue was against his own lips. He opened his mouth for him and their tongues met, slow, languorous strokes, seeking and finding coveted tastes. He sensed the taste, and his mind registered it with speed bordering on listless- they had the rest of their lives to taste, to touch; his mind blurred with the most decadent arousal.

The hand in his hair fisted softly, the elegant fingers tangling and twining so slowly, wide palm kissing his neck beneath the curtain of black hair. The tongue withdrew reluctantly from the depths of his mouth, settled briefly at the inner corner of his lips before returning to its own mouth. The warm lips unfastened from his own but the beloved face kept its proximity. Remus's eyes were heavily lidded, dark lashes resting against his pale cheeks. Their eyes locked momentarily, then Remus enfolded Sirius ever closer against him, nosing the place just below his ear. His cheek rubbed intoxicatingly against his own, lightly stubbled. A contented sigh in to his hair, the warm hands drawing him ever closer, he didn't think they could get any closer, but he wanted so very badly to. His own hands twined around Remus's body, and his eyes fell shut as he traced the stubbly jaw with his lips. He was delirious.

Remus's lips brushed his ear in a breathy kiss and lingered. They moved rhythmically and with purpose against his ear, but still so, so soft, unspoken words of a poem, perhaps, but he could not decipher the meaning. He felt against his chest a low rumbling perhaps of voice, but still he could not make out the words the lips framed. The utterance was not urgent, but reverently mumbled, and Remus barely heard it himself. Their bodies pressed together at every possible point and from each point warmth and energy radiated. So softly his voice continued, and now Sirius could hear him. "Were all stars to disappear or die," the lips traced his ear, "I should learn to look at an empty sky" broken with a kiss against his jaw, "and feel its total dark sublime," now those lips at his temple, softly brushing, "though this might take me a little time."

At first the low rasp of his voice washed over Sirius's ears, but when the words reached his muddled brain he froze. Long ago in the night he'd heard those words spoken in reverence, when the war raged on around them and they spoke of the unspeakable.

Remus pulled back slightly to look, heated, in to his eyes. "I know I swore to that, we both did. But it's not true." He cradled his jaw in one hand. "It would take more time than I could ever have. I couldn't bring myself to forget you, and I could never really move on." He paused. "I was a coward. I ignored my doubts of your guilt, calling it denial, dismissing love to some sort of feral attachment the wolf felt for you. And somewhere inside me I knew that wasn't true, and I never did anything about it." He was shaking his head slowly. "Your letters... all year as I read them I looked for hints that the sky was not empty. And they were there, but I never said anything to you about it. I can't believe I made such a mistake again. I should have said something to you before. It would have saved a lot of grief."

His eyes burned a fierce blue. "You have nothing to regret." "I never stopped loving you. But my mind hated that, and for so long I tried to fight it, and instead of thinking about what had happened, and thinking about the you that I really knew, I let you rot in hell for all those years."

The eyes, when the heavy lids reluctantly, painfully parted, were shrouded in something fierce. "You shouldn't have had to go through that," he forced the words out of his tight throat. "I know." Remus's eyelids fell shut. "And neither should you have." He nuzzled against Sirius's face, lips brushing ever so softly whenever they met flesh. Sirius shivered against him.

"Help me, Remus," he pleaded, sotto voce. Remus could hear the shards of a damaged soul in the plaintive words; the sounds were dangerously close to the broken, grating look he saw in tired eyes not quite two weeks ago on his doorstep that rainy night. And there was so much more behind those words, he could feel how close Sirius was to losing himself, and he knew that things would never again be easy. But he took no hesitation in accepting it.

"Anything. Anything you want, anything you ever need, I could never deny you." He pulled the gaunt man closer. "I promise." The oath made him recall a happier time, a world with much less weight on his shoulders. "I promise."

As the enormity of the words fell upon them their lips sought each other once more. How doth the little sounds they made send shivers up the spine. No longer were their touches languid-with a feverish intensity their hands hunted bare flesh. Fingers fumbled uneloquently at buttons.

"God, I've missed you..." Remus's voice was barely audible between kisses. Speech was difficult with the love of your life sucking on one lip.

"I know, I know... missed you too," Sirius spoke around Remus's lip. "I want you, want you, need to be yours..."

Remus's hands defeated Sirius's shirt. As they rubbed the warm flesh Sirius moaned, shivering. Needing to feel his chest bare against Sirius's, he helped with his own buttons and soon the skin met, and it wasn't enough, because their hands roamed chests for only moments before moving to unbutton trousers.

Remus moaned in frustration at Sirius's waistline. "What the hell are you wearing a belt for? Are you trying to kill me?" No, not kill you, never kill you love... He couldn't put words in his mouth, the fingers at his own buttonings were distracting him far too much.

+++++

A summons from Dumbledore met them the following morning.

Upon the bedroom window an owl rapped civilly, and it was Remus who rose from the tangle of their limbs to retrieve it. He returned to the warmth of the sheets, parchment in hand. The rich scent of Sirius, and of himself, engulfed his nose as he crawled in, and sleepy arms reached for his body. The parchment fell from his hand and he succumbed.

A scant moment of snuggling before those lips devoured his own. Their bare flesh rubbed together maddeningly and their voices were hardly more than low moans. Remus pulled Sirius on top of him and they rocked against each other, lips locked, until Sirius wrenched his mouth away. Piercing blue eyes met gray, and they stared at each other, faces millimeters apart, breath coming loudly from open, craving lips. Sirius leaned in once more, quickly, and Remus tried to hold him closer but he wouldn't have it. He slid down Remus's sweaty body and, to the surprise of Remus's slightly muddled mind, swallowed him whole. A few well placed licks had Remus writhing and gasping on the bed, hands tangled in the jet black of Sirius's hair, and before he could string two words together Sirius was swallowing every bit of him, every drop of his essence.

His trembling hand retrieved the parchment from where it had fallen.

"Your presence is requested at Hogwarts this morning. Please see the headmaster as soon as possible," his rich voice read. "Well, there's something I need to take care of before we go, isn't there," Remus muttered. He pulled Sirius's head to his chest; while his other hand trailed between their bodies to stroke the hardness he found there. He whispered in to his ear lusty words.


	2. Chapter Two

"Aha, Remus, Sirius, thank you for coming so quickly."

Sirius nodded respectfully. "Headmaster," he said.

"The call of duty is enticing, Albus," Remus said, grinning.

Sirius marveled at the ease with which Remus addressed Dumbledore. He didn't think he'd ever be able to call him Albus.

"Indeed it is." Dumbledore smiled. "Now that the Order of the Phoenix has been recalled, things are going to have to begin straight away. I'm in the process of looking for a meeting place, a safe house of sorts, somewhere inconspicuous, where we can all come and go without worries. Now, there are-"

"Pardon me, Professor-I might be of service on that front."

"Oh?"

"As the only surviving heir of the Black family," his voice was tinged with sarcasm, "it seems to me that I have a rather large, rather unplottable house in my name. I'm willing to offer it up as headquarters." A grin unfolded slowly on his pale face. "Imagine what my mother would say, having Order meetings in her kitchen!"

"I was rather hoping that something like this would come along. Thank you, Sirius, it's precisely what we need. Well, now that that's taken care of, we can get down to business. I would like the two of you to help me plan what sort of wards we can use and will need to put on your house to pull this off. We'll need to get started immediately... the house has been vacant for what, ten years? If you two wouldn't mind moving in and starting with a bit of cleaning, I can see to it that a... cleaning crew can join you in a week or so. Once we get the wards sorted out, I have every confidence that it will be safer than any other hiding place you've had, Sirius."

Sirius did not look pleased at the suggestion of moving back to his family house, but he made no dissent.

+++++

He'd left this house through the front door all those years ago, properly. He'd filled his trunk with all the worldly belongings of a sixteen-year old and dragged it noisily down the steps, its clunks against the polished wood percussive accompaniment to his mother's incessant shrieks. After a lifetime of his inadequacy, the comparisons to his perfect younger brother, the fact that nothing he could do would ever be good enough... To cross the threshold of this house was liberating. He had slammed the door behind him and never looked back.

He hadn't been alone when he returned. In the middle of the night, a cold wind biting his shoulders until they hunched, he stood on the stoop with Remus by his side. His presence, the soft pressure of his shoulder against Sirius's own, reassured him, never pushing, but always there.

The wood of his wand was smooth against his fingers, a familiar weight in his hand. He hadn't asked Dumbledore how he'd gotten it. But he'd been so grateful. Stolen wands never felt right. Though they nearly always worked- he was powerful enough to perform spells with nearly any wand. But with his own, the power flowed freely through his body and tingled where his fingers grasped his wand; he felt unstoppable-at least... until he was faced once again with this door.

He couldn't open it. He knew every locking spell that his father had used-he'd heard them placed on his own door many times, and his father used the same spells, in the same order, on every thing he locked. But the thing was, he didn't mean it, he didn't want to be faced with this house again, didn't want to be trapped inside it, and he couldn't make the magic work.

"It's all right, Sirius," Remus's soft voice washed over his tense frame. "I'm coming with you."

Sirius felt Remus's hand on his shoulder now, and it was a welcome feeling, radiating warmth through his cold soul. He struggled to focus on it, to make the door admit the two of them, rather than thinking of it as affirming his own imprisonment. The hand on his shoulder remained steady, and the door opened.

It was dark; dank, musty, uninviting. Just as wretched as Sirius remembered it, perhaps even more so, because at least when his mother had been alive she'd kept the carpet from growing mold. A steady hand still lay on his shoulder and he could feel Remus right behind him as he crossed the threshold.

"Lumos," Remus muttered, beside him now, and soft light spilled across the hallway. It was not very welcoming. The high ceilings were supported by walls already laden with hundreds of portraits, the occupants in question sleeping haughtily in their opulent frames. Their footsteps made dull thuds against the wood of the floor-or rather, the thick layer of dust that covered it like lavish rugs.

"God damn," Sirius said ruefully, in barely more than a whisper. "I never thought I'd be back here again."

+++++

When he and Sirius first moved in to Grimmauld Place together Remus never would have imagined the instantaneous metamorphosis that took place. Sirius's thin frame was wrought with resentment and no other member of the Order could calm him; he'd seemed to wither before his very eyes. Remus stayed as close to him as was possible at first, and when he'd thought things had been difficult two weeks ago, he'd been wrong. It was much harder to keep Sirius sane locked up in here. He walked the halls like a caged animal-which, Remus realized, he really was. This house had been a prison to him in his youth, and now here he was again, entombed in it. It held memories of things and people that Sirius had fought to forget. How like Azkaban it was, Remus mused. Locked away in a dark house, every inch of which brought the memory of horrible times. Just like being around dementors.

Remus was determined to help Sirius from succumbing to the memory.

Passing a line of portraits in the hall, Remus noted the family resemblance. The mask of haughty aloofness seemed to have been bred in to the Blacks. He recalled the detached air Sirius sometimes donned- very similar, it was, to this mask that covered all their faces.

He had to hand it to Sirius, he really did. He was trying. He cracked jokes, he smiled- no one but Remus heard the bitter sarcasm that sometimes tinged his laughter, nor the forced quality his smiles often took.

Members of the Order were in and out of the house in the first few days, and their arrivals made for welcome breaks in Sirius's attempts to purge the house. Moody arrived one afternoon with a tall, bald black man.

"Sirius, Remus, I'd like you to meet Kingsley Shacklebolt. He's an Auror, probably one of the best the Ministry's got right now-" Shacklebolt waved him off. "That's not saying much, Mad-Eye. Pleasure to meet you both, I've certainly heard a lot about you. Sirius, I wonder if you could tell me where you planned to hide, that is, before coming here?"

Sirius looked at him, puzzled. Sizing him up. "Tibet," he answered, matter-of-factly. Beside him, Remus snorted quietly. "Brilliant." Shacklebolt's low voice quieted, and he continued as if making notes to himself. "Wizards in a remote magical village in Tibet reported seeing a haggard white man, an unusual occurrence in the area..." He smiled.

"Kingsley's in charge of the manhunt for you, Sirius," Moody clarified.

A grin sprawled across Sirius's face. "I see. Well, for my sake I hope you don't have much luck."

Kingsley laughed deeply. "Don't worry. I can make you disappear very effectively."

Moody and Kingsley remained a few hours to help clean up the kitchen. The Weasleys would be arriving in less than a week, and the moon would be full tomorrow night, so the company was most appreciated.

+++++

They were alone, and it was very late. The kitchen table was littered with the remnants of their dinner, two empty boxes of Chinese takeaway. Remus had had a craving for beef chow mein, and no one could argue with that. He'd conned Shacklebolt in to sending some along right before he had left. Now they nursed a bottle of firewhiskey until Remus, his cheeks growing warm, stood, and downed the rest of his glass in one swallow.

"Come with me," he said to Sirius.

Sirius followed him out of the kitchen and up in to a room at the back of the house. They seldom came in here-it hadn't merited immediate cleaning attention, so they hadn't cleaned it. But as they made their way through the clutter, Sirius remembered where the door at the opposite end of the room led.

"Remus," he began. "Dumbledore-"

"Shh, it's all right." And he supposed it was, because who could argue with that voice? "Dumbledore didn't say anything about this."

Remus opened the door to reveal the night. He could feel the wards on the house as he crossed them, and stepped out on to the back porch. He turned to look at Sirius. "It's all right. Really. The back garden isn't warded, but it's still Unplottable. No one needs to know." Was it so bad to bend Dumbledore's orders? Sirius needed this so badly. "We just have to be quiet."

He was hesitant. He'd been inside for far longer than he liked, and Dumbledore had made it clear he wasn't to venture out-but this wasn't really out, he was still on his property, still unseen by any searching eyes. He stepped to the threshold and looked out at the darkened mess of hedge and weeds, then he turned his face upward to the darkened sky.

It was clearer than either of them remembered the sky being. The deep blue stretched on forever in every direction, an indigo canvas peppered with stars. Barely a sliver of the moon crept its arc across the sky.

Sirius stepped tentatively across the threshold and joined Remus. They stood in silence for long moments, leaning ever so slightly against each others' side.

A brief bit of movement caught their gazes, and their eyes widened.

"A falling star," Remus smiled.

"It's falling for you, just like I am." There were stars in his eyes.

They turned toward each other and kissed tenderly, insistently, and soon they were lowering themselves to the ground. Remus hovered over Sirius, he could see the reflection of the sky in Sirius's eyes, and it was so much more beautiful. Their pale skin glowed in the starlight.

The night lowered upon them both, pressed Remus closer to Sirius. The vast sky did not dwarf them, it welcomed them and wrapped them in its wonder, and as they moved together Sirius looked over his lover's shoulder at the stars and they seemed closer.

+++++

The kitchen fire roared to life and Severus Snape stepped out of it, in his hands a frothing goblet.

"Your potion, Lupin," he said curtly, and barely waited for Remus to acknowledge him before turning heel and returning to Hogwarts through the floo.

Remus grinned ruefully in the direction of the retreating flames, then drained the goblet and set it upon the table. He saw Sirius watching him, and before he'd returned to his seat at the kitchen table his lover was passing him a Peppermint Imp. "Thanks." He popped the candy in his mouth. "Particularly vile batch, if I do say so myself."

"Git probably makes it taste as foul as he can."

"It wouldn't surprise me one bit." The peppermint banished nearly all of the foul taste in his mouth, and he reached for his cup of tea.

Sirius was watching him. Rather nervously. Remus paused with his teacup inches from his lips.

"What?" he said mildly.

Sirius was caught off-guard. "I- just... er."

"Very eloquent, Padfoot. I'm not going to drop dead, even if Snape brewed this potion. Stop it, you're making me jumpy." And he was jumpy, his blood was singing through his veins. But it wasn't Sirius's fault.

They hadn't been together for a full moon for fourteen years. The wolf crept just below his consciousness, and the wolf knew that this time, it would be different. Remus felt a surge of affection and of dominance, and the next time he felt Sirius's glance rake over him, he leapt at him. Knocked him off his tipped-back chair and on to the kitchen floor, covered his mouth possessively with his own, and kissed him for all he was worth.

Then he got to his feet nonchalantly and drained his teacup.

Sirius finished spelling the door shut, and he reinforced the wards and silencing charms they had put in place earlier in the day. He was very nervous. And he knew Remus had gone through this hundreds of times, and he knew he'd done it alone more often than not. He knew he wasn't afraid of the wolf. So what was his problem?

Remus paced the length of the attic, each step closer to moonrise.

"Are you all right, Moony?" Sirius couldn't stop himself.

"I'm fine, Sirius."

"You look pale," his voice was tinged with anxiety.

"Er. Yeah." He stopped pacing to look at Sirius. "You look even worse than I do." Remus walked closer to him. "You don't have to- "

"Yes I do."

Remus nodded. "Thank you."

Sirius watched him methodically remove his robes, folding them tidily. Watched as he placed them on a shelf, out of reach. Watched the pale, cold light of the moon drip through the attic windows, saw Remus shudder in pain and sink to his knees. He reached a hand out to him, to soothe him, and Remus grasped it. His voice was ragged as he demanded that Sirius transform, now, don't wait any longer. Padfoot watched the light creep along the floor, illuminating the lines and the sweat on Remus's face, the way he clenched his teeth against the scream that soon erupted from his chest. The horrible sound of it hurt Padfoot's ears. It was familiar, so familiar the way the human timbre slowly gave way to something more wolfish, and he shuddered at it. He'd remembered that scream more often than he had actually heard it, and that brought the memory of many, many other screams. He wanted to cower in to the corner, but more he wanted to help Remus. Moony. With a soft whine he nudged Remus's face, then he rubbed his head against his shoulder and he could hear the bones rearranging themselves.

Moments (or was it ages?) later, Moony got gingerly to his feet. He cocked his head, sniffing at Padfoot. Padfoot lowered to the floor in submission and, to his surprise, Moony curled up right beside him and fell asleep.

+++++

Watching Remus transform seemed to have awoken something in Sirius. The next morning, those eyes were haunted, and his hands were shaking as he helped Remus to his feet. He doted on him obsessively, even more so than in their youth. He was very quiet, and seemed to get lost in thought often that day.

They had settled in to bed early, and Remus fell asleep nearly immediately. It took Sirius a bit longer.

The clock had barely struck midnight when Remus was awakened to raw, despairing screams-- the body beside him thrashing violently beneath the coverlet. It was difficult to wake Sirius. The clutches of nightmare were strong on his mind, and when Remus was finally able to pull Sirius from sleep, Sirius still looked frantic, still looked so thoroughly stricken with terror... His eyes blazed for long moments before he was able to focus on Remus. It seemed as though he couldn't hear Remus speaking to him in that steady, calming voice. When at last the words penetrated his mind he pressed his pale face in to shaking hands. Remus pulled Sirius against him and held him for a long time before the shaking stopped, gentle fingers tracing bumps of prominent spine and bony shoulders. He doubted Sirius went back to sleep that night.

The dreams returned with full force, living, breathing demons whose prey is weak in darkness.

He left the house two days later and bought Sirius a Pensieve. He'd had to search, for the instruments themselves were rather rare, but in the end he found one. He presented it solemnly to Sirius, whose eyes were red-rimmed and bruised with lack of sleep. "I thought that perhaps you could put your dreams in it, after you have them... Maybe if the thoughts aren't swimming around in your head the nightmares will stop," he explained when Sirius looked askance at him.

Sirius had shut his eyes then, and when he opened them they were brighter. "Thank you," he said.

That night Remus had woken again to the sound of Sirius's voice. He was swearing hoarsely, with a sort of reverence that one who truly meant the words would use. With white knuckles he was gripping his wand. He raised it to his temple and when Remus saw the threads of thought pull from his head, it seemed as though Sirius was trying to exorcise them with incredible force. He pulled his wand away further and he abandoned the thoughts in to the Pensieve as though burned. Remus laid a hand on his shoulder as he finished. The wraiths follow him, haunt him; their icy fingers of desperation clawing at his soul. There is no rest for the weary. He is hunted. Even in sleep, he is hunted.

Remus had thought that Sirius was dreaming about Azkaban. He hated being right. He asked, offhandedly, about the dreams the following day, and Sirius was reluctant to speak of them. "Will you show me, then?" He knew that asking to see this was incredibly forward. But he felt he needed to know what he was up against.

Sirius shut his eyes tightly, and Remus could see the battle going on inside him. Part of him really needed someone else to really understand. But another part didn't want to be felt sorry for, and still another was frantic that no one else ever experience this. When he opened his eyes they were so haunted that Remus gasped.

"I'm sorry... I... just want to know. I hate seeing you like this and not knowing exactly what's wrong. I don't pity you at all, Sirius," Sirius knew Remus could read minds, he knew it, "I just... need to understand."

Sirius stared hard at him for long moments, not really assessing his motives; he was fighting with himself about this. "All right," he said quietly. "I think I need you to understand, too." That admission cost him, Remus could tell. Remus reached for his hand and he took it, grasped it tightly. Their joined hands moved toward the surface of the Pensieve as it swirled darkly, ominously. They fell together when they touched it.

Darkness was not merely absence of light in Azkaban. It was a violent spirit, all its own, that tore at the heart and the soul as relentlessly as the dementors did. The stone floor of the cell was cold beneath his feet, he could feel it even through his shoes, and the clothing he wore was no match at all for the cold in the air. Beside him, Remus felt Sirius withdraw in to himself, and he allowed it.

In the corner of the filthy cell lay a crumpled, broken form; clad in robes to feeble to even begin to ward off the cold, his skin glowed almost translucently pale. Rather, it would have, if there had been more light. It was so dark around the edges of the cell that the man's hair didn't even look black against it. Remus's heart ached at the sight of him, so deep in despair he was, and the frail, bony form trembled with cold and dread. Remus took one step closer-Sirius would not move, and he didn't want to let go of his hand-and he felt the presence of the dementors. He was really amazed he hadn't felt it a step back, because it was so strong, he'd never felt anything like this before, never. He'd felt dementors, he knew how to fight them off, but this... He was familiar with the sensation of hope draining out of him. He knew the thoughts well that filled his mind now. But he didn't think he could conjure his patronus if he tried to. And he wasn't even _near_ the dementors, this was a memory, they couldn't really touch him here, not with their full power... god. His mind was reeling, dimly he heard the memory-Sirius moaning to himself, shouting occasionally the same words that had recently woken Remus. The fingers he held in his own hand were dreadfully limp and cold, and somehow he forced himself to step back to Sirius and guide them both from this memory.

They swirled back to Grimmauld Place, the feeble light of their bedroom seemed much brighter, and Remus felt very hot all of a sudden in his knit jumper. Sirius was nearly as pale as in the memory, and Remus didn't need the faint grip of his fingers to know that he was shaking, he could see the tremors as they ran through his entire body.

"Oh, god, Sirius," he said, as he reached for him.

He'd almost enfolded Sirius in his arms when Sirius wrenched himself away, still shivering, still chalk-white, and collapsed to his knees. Remus followed him in his descent and put a strong arm over his heaving back as Sirius retched violently over the hardwood floor.


	3. Chapter Three

It was very early in the morning when the doorbell clanged, dissonant and low, like a warped version of cathedral bells. "Fuck," Sirius growled in to Remus's hair, his voice gruff with sleep. Vaguely, through the floor, they could hear his mother shrieking.

"That must be the Weasleys," Remus mumbled.

"Why can't they use the bloody Floo?"

"Why couldn't they have slept another few hours?"

"My mother'll never shut up now. Imagine, all those blood traitors overrunning her house," Sirius's voice turned slightly gleeful, despite the hour. "The old cow will have a fit."

"Mmm." Remus murmured sleepily. "D'you think they'll go away if we don't answer the door?"

Another ring of the bell answered his question.

"Fine, keep your hair on, we're coming..." Sirius swung his legs over the side of the bed.

The house positively vibrated with energy. The levels of noise coming from the guest rooms on the second level would have sent his mother in to a conniption, and Sirius relished that thought for a moment. Granted, he rather resented Molly running around the house, shouting at the children, and giving orders, but if she wanted to clean this miserable mansion, fine. She meant well, after all. Snape had been at the Order meeting last night. Certainly Sirius's idea of fun, sitting in the meeting listening to Snape imply his uselessness. The greasy git.

To make matters worse, Remus had left this morning.

Reconnaissance mission, Dumbledore's orders, he'd said briefly, before pressing a familiar kiss to Sirius's lips. Sirius had tangled his hands in his hair and had pleaded him, with desperate passion in his kiss, to return safely. They'd stumbled against the kitchen table and knocked over Remus's teacup before Molly bustled in. She squeaked indignantly and they broke apart.

"I'll see you soon," Remus said softly. "Take care of yourself?"

Sirius could only nod.

With a brisk nod at Molly Remus exited the kitchen. Sirius righted the teacup and filled it once more with steaming, dark liquid, cradling the cup in his palm. One lump of sugar and a dash of milk, but it wouldn't be as good as when Remus made it. He stared in to the tea for a long time and tried to ignore Molly's concerned glances in his direction as she made breakfast.

He had a letter from Harry shortly after breakfast. He was a smart kid, and he asked everything that Sirius could have expected of him, and it infuriated Sirius to not be able to answer his questions. If he could just go _over_ there, talk to Harry... he sounded just as frustrated as Sirius himself felt. And he felt awfully inadequate giving half-replies, but owls could still certainly be intercepted. He scrawled a few lines on a spare bit of parchment and hoped he didn't sound indifferent. He really was proud of Harry, and he was so frustrated that he couldn't clap him on the shoulder and tell him so. There had to be some way to get him away from Lily's awful sister and her equally awful family. He sighed and sent the letter back with Hedwig, scratching the top of her head before she flew away. The kids were in the entrance hall, attempting to clear away the remaining mess. Sirius didn't particularly want anything to do with it, though he didn't really have anything else to do lately. In the first few days he'd been here, he and Remus had scoured only the rooms they'd used, and as much as Sirius wanted to get rid of everything in this blasted house, burn it to the ground, perhaps, he wasn't pleased with playing house-elf.

Especially when that thrice-damned house elf still wandered these halls. Wretched creature.

\-- A quiet, prim knock interrupted Buckbeak's feeding. He'd actually been in here for quite a while because the others tended to leave him alone up here. He dropped a couple more rats for the hippogriff before answering the door-it wasn't Remus's knock, but something made him answer it anyway. It definitely wasn't Molly's knock. He supposed she was hovering over the kids as they were pushed in to another day of cleaning; he'd join them later, certainly, but he was sure they could manage for now.

"Sirius?" Oh, yes, someone was at the door. He recognized that voice, but only vaguely, for it was not as confident as he was accustomed to hearing it.

"Just a moment," he answered, picking up the bag of rats before making his exit (Buckbeak would gorge himself on the whole bag if he left it). With his free hand he pushed a messy lock of his black hair behind his ear, then opened the door. "Professor McGonagall?" He was surprised to see her, not just for the fact that she was wearing muggle clothes. He hadn't spoken to her since... well, it had been a very long time indeed.

"Minerva, please," she said. She sounded rather shy, too. He smiled vaguely and transferred the bag of rats to his left hand, wiping his right on his trousers and extending it to her. She raised an eyebrow in the direction of the bloody bag but shook his hand nonetheless. "It's good to see you. Minerva." Seeing her questioning look, he motioned to the rats. "They're for Buckbeak," he said matter-of-factly.

"The hippogriff?"

"Yes." A long pause. "Um, what can I do for you, Prof-er, Minerva?"

"Well, first of all I rather thought... that you might like this," smiling shyly she withdrew a large book from her tartan handbag. "Remus told me that you would probably have read every book in the place by now, everything worth reading, that is, and this is an excellent work. It might be a bit dry at times, but it's very well written and-"

He cut her off with a true smile, though it was only a ghost of the smile that had made every female who had ever seen it swoon. "Breakthroughs and Methods in Modern Transfiguration, eh? Let me see," he took the book from her and opened it, skimming through the contents page. "Wow, this is amazing, and it should keep me busy for a while. Thank you, I appreciate it."

"Oh, wonderful, I'm so glad... you always were so enthusiastic about Transfiguration in school, and I wouldn't be surprised if you could accomplish most of this magic without too much of a problem... You always were exceptionally bright..." she smiled sadly at him. "I'm so sorry. Every time I think about everything... well, I'm sure you don't want an apology from me, but nevertheless, I want you to know that I'm glad you are innocent, and I'm glad we were wrong about you, and I regret it was for so long." She looked very surprised that she had allowed herself to say so much. But she'd always had a soft spot for Sirius, deep down.

Sirius stared at her for a moment, surprised also at her speech, a bit taken aback. "Well... I... thanks. Thanks very much," he stammered.

"Oh, and another thing," her voice resembled much more the stern one he remembered from school. Those words often came at the end of a tirade after they'd been caught in the act of some fantastic prank. He almost cringed.

"It has come to my attention that you had mastered the Animagus transformation directly under my nose as a _teenager_." 

Was she really going to scold him? How dare she-

"Would you transform for me? Please?" Well, that wasn't quite what he'd been expecting. He laughed, a clipped little bark. "Sure." He turned in to Padfoot and grinned doggily up at her stern, Professor-like face. It looked as though she was trying with all her might not to smile. And he couldn't resist. He reared up on his hind legs, rested his paws a moment on her shoulders, and drew his sloppy doggy tongue across her cheek so fast that she hadn't the time to escape. And there came the laugh. She'd resisted laughing at him for years, all those times she'd punished him at school he could see the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. 

"You slimy, mangy mutt!"

He transformed again and doubled over in laughter. He liked McGonagall a lot, he'd always known she had it in her. If only she'd transformed too, then he could have chased her...

"You'll pay for that, Black, and get that look off your face, I'm not going to stand for being chased by a _dog_." Her words were stern but she still grinned at him. "By the way. I'm very proud of you. Excellent transformation. Even if you are a dog. Full marks," she said, trying to contain a-yes, it was a giggle. He smirked back at her.

\-- Remus had returned three days later and Sirius met him at the door.

"Dementors, Remus." Sirius spat, his eyes flashing. "Fucking _dementors._ "

"He can handle dementors, Sirius."

"They tried to _kiss him._ "

Remus's face went pale. "God," he breathed.

\--

"What the hell is going ON?" Sirius demanded. He'd been pacing the entrance hall, waiting for Remus, and wasted no time the moment he heard him unlock the door and enter.

"I've spoken to Dumbledore," he began.

"And?"

"And I'm going to go get him. Tomorrow evening, before the meeting."

"Did he say...?"

Remus sighed. "He did." He looked apologetically at Sirius. "He says you're not to come. I'm sorry, Padfoot, he wouldn't allow it. Told me that our expedition in to the back garden the other night was risky enough-"

"For Merlin's sake, how did he know about that?"

"I can only imagine. But he was adamant, and I couldn't talk him in to letting you help, no matter how hard I tried." He sighed again, louder this time. "I don't think he understands. How stir crazy you get. And you'd think he'd know me well enough after all these years to know I don't exaggerate. But I suppose he has bigger things on his mind."

"Yeah," Sirius said quietly. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"Dementors..." Arthur said, shaking his head slowly.

"I can't _believe_ they could let this happen to him, the poor boy," Molly said, her lips pursed. "What Dumbledore is doing associating with irresponsible people like-"

"That's just the way Dung is, Molly," Sirius said. His voice was unusually patient. He turned to Remus. "So who's coming with you, Moony?"

"Moody, Sturgis, Tonks, Hestia-"

"The way he IS? How can you just let this go, Sirius? He's obviously not trustworthy," she was beginning to resemble a puffed hen.

"Dung's good to have around. He knows people, and he sees things we might not see." Sirius glanced over at Remus. "There's no use in trying to change people who won't have any of it. And he's useful."

"You're just interested in having another delinquent around here-"

"Who gives a damn what I want? We need him." A muscle twitched in Sirius's jaw.

"I would have thought you of all people would value Harry more than-"

"What are you saying, that I don't-"

"Sirius." Remus placed a hand on his arm. "Molly, It doesn't matter anymore. I'm going to get Harry, he will be safe here. And you never know when Dung may come in handy."

Sirius glowered at the table before excusing himself with a halfhearted mumble. Remus followed him upstairs a few minutes later.

Sirius sprawled across his tipped-back chair, half-listening to Snape as he boasted of the events of the last week. Soon Remus, and the Advance Guard, would return, with Harry. He couldn't really get excited about what Snape was saying when Harry would be arriving any moment.

He felt a tingle in the air and dropped the front legs of his chair to the ground. "The wards have been lifted. Remus must be back," he said, interrupting Snape.

"Molly, would you be so kind as to show our guests in?" said Dumbledore.

"Certainly."

A few moments later the Advance Guard filed in. Sirius looked curiously at Remus. "Well?" he asked.

"Mission accomplished," Remus grinned, taking a seat beside him. The meeting continued.

After a few moments Sirius leaned over to Remus. "I think Emmeline has it for you, Moony." He flashed his winning smile. "She keeps looking over at you."

"Won't she be disappointed," he whispered back, "when I kiss you in front of everyone."

"Poor girl."

After the meeting finished, Sirius remained in the kitchen.

The rest of the Order left with a buzz. He was antsy, anxious to see Harry, but he didn't feel like being social, especially with Snape around commanding everyone's attention in the entrance hall. The kids would be in soon, anyway, it was past time for dinner.

A few moments later a crash from the entrance hall, accompanied by horrible shrieking, interrupted his daydreams. "God damn it," he said, leaping from his chair. He charged up the stairs and as he emerged his wretched mother redirected her screeches.

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!"

Remus was struggling with one side of the curtains, one more reason to adore him, and he seized the other and together they forced them shut.

Dinner proved to be an interesting affair. Sirius seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. His openness with Harry didn't surprise Remus in the least-they'd discussed telling Harry quite a bit, but he hadn't anticipated his blasé offer of information. Nor had he anticipated Molly's staunch objections. But this was important. Harry needed to know.

Soon after the children had been ushered to bed, everyone else in the kitchen followed, leaving Remus and Sirius alone. He was withdrawing in to himself again, Remus could feel it. Sirius had given a casual shrug when he'd put a stop to the questioning-Dumbledore had made it clear that it was dangerous for Harry to know too much.

They sat in silence for a very long time, neither feeling the need to say anything to the other. In his chair, Remus noticed after a while, Sirius's back was far too straight. A sidelong glance revealed a rigidly clenched jaw. He turned to him slowly and laid his hand on Sirius's shoulder. Sirius jumped at the contact.

"Sirius, what is it?" Remus whispered.

He seemed very torn between leaning in to the touch and shrugging Remus's hand off his shoulder, and the indecision tugged somewhere deep in Remus's chest.

"I'm such a horrible godfather," he said softly. "Harry shouldn't have to _deal_ with this shit, and he wouldn't do it alone if I had been there for him, and he might not have to deal with it at all if not for-"

"Sirius."

"Don't tell me otherwise, I know that it's the fucking truth, and I know you know it too," he snapped.

"It's not the truth, Sirius. How long is it going to take for you to believe that I don't blame you? And that you shouldn't take all of this on your shoulders?"

"James and Lily should have named you godfather."

"They couldn't. It isn't legal." He paused for a moment, the air between them heavy. "It's not easy, and it never will be, but at least he trusts you. You're doing just fine, Sirius. And if you'll let me, I will help you." Remus sighed softly. "I have to leave in the morning. Dumbledore needs me to go up to Liverpool."

"More gruntwork?" He was trying to make his voice sound light and teasing.

"Yeah." He took Sirius's hand. "I wish you could come with me. We always worked so well together, remember?"

"Yes." They were leaning closer and closer to each other. "We did."

Their foreheads touched, and then they angled their faces and kissed each other, lingering and warm.

He was drifting in and out of consciousness, floating in that lovely delirium, and his body rolled over, sprawled across Sirius's chest. He felt smooth skin beneath his fingertips, and opened his eyes to meet the bright blue ones right in front of his face, study Sirius's features because he looked so young, and so peaceful, and so happy. The deep red curtains hid the morning light from sleepy eyes, and languidly, drowsily their hands traversed familiar paths. A few kisses stolen before the others woke up. He rested his head on that chest, and Sirius's hands smoothed his hair.

He was pulled in to wakefulness by the familiar motion of hands carding through his hair. He looked up in to Sirius's face and its proximity gave him an overwhelming desire to kiss. He studied his face, though; much more lined with worry and age than he had just been dreaming of, and it was still achingly perfect. A soft smile tugged at one corner of his lips, earning a drowsy grin from his lover.

"Morning," he murmured. "What're you so happy about?"

"I was just dreaming," Remus said.

"About what?"

"This. You. I think it was the first time I woke up with you holding me."

Sirius smiled sadly. "Just like this?"

"Yes." A pause. "Did you sleep all right?"

"Yeah," he said, almost puzzled. "First night in a while."

Remus smiled. Like a cat he stretched luxuriously along Sirius's body, brushing his roughened jawline with his lips. They kissed then for long moments, their lips slanting across each other, mouths opening slowly, each seeking coveted tastes.

It was Remus who pulled away, very slowly. His eyes were still shut and he rested his forehead against Sirius's, staying close enough to still be able to feel his lover's breath on his face. "What time is it?" he murmured.

"Almost six."

"Thoroughly vile hour to be getting up."

"No one said anything about getting up," Sirius said, running his hand slowly down Remus's back. "We have a bit of time, before you go?" Remus could tell that he was trying to sound cheerful. "Don't we?"

Remus kissed him deeply, making him gasp, making his toes curl. "Yes," he whispered against his lips, his heavily lidded eyes answering the question before he spoke.


End file.
